Axel
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Chapter 395: Emperor Julius Axel VI Rebels
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 15:05:01 +0000 UTCJulius Axel VI has suddenly raised an army in rebellion!
When Charlot Mecklenburg received this report, he was completely dumbfounded. Hadn't Earl Bretagne said the emperor was on his deathbed? How could the old man suddenly become vigorous enough to stage a rebellion?
And more importantly, what was an emperor rebelling against, exactly?
Since ancient times, has there ever been an emperor who rebelled?
The report was alarmingly sparse, providing no detailed process or context. It only mentioned that the rebellion involved Prince Redmir Axel and Duke Rembrandt Mossred.
Charlot immediately thought of returning to Strasbourg to see for himself what on earth an emperor rebelling looked like. But reason held him back—Strasbourg was likely embroiled in a bloodbath at this moment, with countless casualties. There was no point in him going there to court disaster.
Besides, the region with the highest concentration of Saint-rank individuals wasn’t the Ferranden frontlines—it was Strasbourg. As a mere high-rank transcendent, what business did he have meddling in such turmoil?
And, most importantly, Miss Annie Bretagne wasn’t in Strasbourg.
Speaking of which, Charlot couldn’t help but admire Earl Bretagne’s foresight. If Annie had returned to Strasbourg, Charlot would have felt compelled to rush back, stage a dramatic rescue, and likely bring his entire army of orcs with him.
At this moment, Charlot found himself missing Leopardman Tumisan. The old Leopardman was an expert in the Beast God Transformation technique, capable of countless disguises. Not only was he a Saint-rank, but his speed was also unmatched—perfect for gathering intelligence. Unfortunately, both Tumisan and Sabastine had returned to Menielman Soumet’s side.
Charlot had once considered setting up an intelligence network, but this endeavor required highly specialized personnel, which this world sorely lacked. The merchant guild under his command was less effective at transmitting information than the newspapers. Now, all he could do was sigh in frustration.
Just as Charlot had predicted, Strasbourg was already in chaos.
...
The battle outside the imperial palace was nearing its end. High above the city, six or seven Saint-rank individuals clashed fiercely. Meanwhile, a nobleman in his fifties, radiating an air of charm, strode purposefully into the palace. Turning to a man in full armor beside him, he complained, "Duke Rembrandt Mossred, we’ve delayed this far too long!"
"Three days—it took us a full three days just to take the palace!"
"Thankfully, we preemptively removed those old codgers and sealed off all news. Otherwise, if even one person had rallied the troops, we might have failed."
The armored man, Duke Rembrandt Mossred, replied confidently, his voice muffled by his helm, "Prince Redmir Axel, we’ve won! Don’t dwell on the details. As long as you kill Julius and declare him a traitor, taking the throne as Axel VII, it will all be over."
The two continued their conversation as they strode toward the imperial bedchamber.
The corridors were strewn with the bodies of royal knights. Most had died fighting valiantly, their bodies pierced by multiple weapons. Some bore the marks of anti-magic armor-piercing rounds. Those struck by such alchemical bullets often died in horrifying states, their bodies shattered beyond recognition.
...
Emperor Julius Axel VI still sat on his throne, gazing sorrowfully at the brother who now stormed into his chamber. "You just couldn’t wait, could you?" he asked.
Prince Redmir Axel smiled faintly. "It’s not about patience, dear brother. I am very patient. But I fear that if I wait too long, it won’t be me who succeeds."
"You know my place in the line of succession is fourth, don’t you? Ahead of me are three nieces and your son."
The old emperor let out a heavy sigh. "Will you kill them, too?" he asked.
"Why wouldn’t I?" Redmir replied calmly. "Brother, you and I both understand the principle of eliminating the roots."
The emperor slammed a hand on the armrest of his throne in anger. "They all call you uncle!"
Redmir chuckled. "They can keep calling me that—though, naturally, they probably won’t."
Drawing a vampiric rapier from his belt, its blade gleaming like a serpent, Redmir lunged forward and plunged it into his elder brother’s body.
Julius Axel VI raised a feeble hand in an attempt to stop the attack, but he was too old and his strength had diminished greatly. Years ago, in an attempt to ascend to a higher rank, the emperor had consumed a rare and precious magical elixir. However, his frail body had been unable to withstand its effects. Instead of achieving advancement, he suffered severe backlash. From that moment on, his body had weakened, leaving him powerless to muster his strength as the blade pierced through him.
With a forceful motion, Redmir slashed his brother’s body in two. Looking at the disbelief etched on the emperor’s lifeless face, he turned to Duke Mossred and declared, "It’s over! We’ve succeeded."
"Now, all that remains is to kill those children... and my dear sister-in-law."
"A pity, really. If she were a few years younger, I might have let her stay on as queen."
Duke Mossred muttered, "You’ll still need time to solidify your position and address the objections from certain parties."
Redmir’s confidence was unshaken. "There are only a dozen or so people who might oppose me: Earl Bretagne, Sophia Gallanord, Felix Robin, Princess Axo Axel, Count D’Artagnan, and Aurora Soumet..."
"The Duchess of Mesu has already defected, so she’s no longer a concern!"
"They’ll all support me!"
"I’ve already sent marriage proposals to Earl Bretagne and Count Sophia Gallanord. As long as they accept, their daughters will become my queens. I doubt they can resist such a temptation."
"I had considered offering the same to Aurora Soumet, but that old hag is under Menielman’s thumb. Besides, the First Rose of the Empire is far too thorny—better to deal with her by other means."
Duke Mossred couldn’t help but interject, "The position of queen can only be held by one person."
Prince Redmir dismissed the remark with a wave. "It’s competition! Competition!"
"This will only drive them to work harder to please me."
As they discussed these matters, neither man gave Charlot a second thought. To these top-tier aristocrats, Charlot was nothing more than the son of a lowly merchant—not worth even the slightest consideration.
...
Above, four Saint-rank combatants descended to the ground. The others, sensing the emperor’s life force vanish, chose to retreat and leave the palace.
These Saint-rank individuals prioritized themselves above all else, then their families, and only lastly their allegiance to the emperor. Fighting to their last breath had been more than enough.
Indeed, it was the last breath of Emperor Julius Axel VI.
Standing before the four Saint-rank warriors, Prince Redmir Axel radiated confidence as he bellowed, "Kneel! Swear your allegiance to your new emperor!"
Four Saint ranks and squads of black-armored warriors knelt in submission. Redmir Axel, brimming with ambition, kicked aside his brother’s corpse and claimed the throne.
After some time, a general entered the royal chamber, knelt on one knee, and reported:
“Your Highness, the Empress has fled to the residence of Earl Bretagne. Your son, Lord Midaphis, demanded that the Earl hand over the Empress, but the Countess refused.”
Hongmir smiled faintly and replied:
“Tell the Countess clearly—I have no intention of killing the Empress nor troubling the Bretagne family!”
The general remained motionless. Pleased with himself, Hongmir asked with mild irritation:
“Why haven’t you gone yet?”
In a low voice, the general responded:
“Lord Midaphis forced his way into the Earl’s estate and killed both the Countess and the Empress!”
A deathly silence enveloped the chamber. The faintest sound, even a pin dropping, could have been heard by everyone present.
Duke Mossred could not help but exclaim:
“How could Midaphis act so recklessly? Is he trying to incite rebellion from Earl Bretagne?”
Hongmir’s face turned ashen. He barked furiously:
“Send someone to bring that fool back to me at once.”
Shortly thereafter, a young man with golden hair, strikingly handsome but with a brooding demeanor, entered the chamber accompanied by several subordinates. Seeing Redmir Axel seated on the throne, he knelt on one knee and said:
“Congratulations, Father. Your dream has come true, and you have ascended to the throne of the Fars Empire.”
Flattered, Hongmir felt a trace of pride but quickly erupted in anger:
“Why did you kill the Countess of Bretagne?”
Midaphis replied coolly:
“She was my cousin and the second in line to inherit the Empire. Killing her sooner rather than later makes no difference.”
Hongmir, furious, wanted to kick his son but hesitated. Midaphis was widely recognized as the future strongest Saint of the Empire and posed a serious threat even to his father. Though Hongmir held the title of Emperor, his Extraordinary progression had been lackluster. Despite royal resources, he had only reached a high-level Transcendent rank, rendering him no match for his own son.
Midaphis’ unruly nature made him dangerous; Hongmir had no desire to become infamous as the emperor who was beaten by the crown prince.
If Charlot Mecklenburg had witnessed this scene, he would have summed up their father-son relationship in one phrase:
“This is a Nezha! A troublemaker born to torment his father.”
Suppressing his anger, Hongmir growled:
“We indeed need to eliminate that woman, but it must be done when my rule is secure. Acting prematurely only complicates matters.”
Midaphis responded icily:
“She’s already dead.”
Hongmir’s face flushed with rage. A surge of heat rose to his head, and he muttered a curse under his breath.
Duke Mossred intervened to defuse the tension:
“Your Majesty, the bigger picture is paramount.”
Hongmir, shaken, commanded:
“Summon all the nobles to the palace! Bring the families of those key figures here as well. We’ll need hostages for what we’re about to do.”
From that day onward, Strasbourg was plunged into chaos.
...
Redmir Axel’s private knight order and Duke Mossred’s knights replaced the Royal Knight Order, terrorizing Strasbourg. They relentlessly hunted down dissenters and forced the nobles to declare their allegiance. By the second day after Hongmir had seized the palace and slain the old Emperor, blood began to flow in the streets of Strasbourg. Each day saw noble families publicly executed, often without trial, as rival knight orders looted their properties.
Charlot Mecklenburg’s private estates were not spared. Knights under Duke Mossred ransacked two of his residences, imprisoning Mrs. Nancy and Madam Umeboshi. Charlot’s mansion on Baker Street, No. 221B, was thoroughly plundered. Even the magical oil paintings were stolen, and the knightly lances symbolizing dominion were seized.
This massacre lasted two harrowing weeks.
...
When Charlot learned of the news, he was initially indifferent to the old Emperor’s death. However, upon hearing that Midaphis had stormed into Earl Bretagne’s estate, murdering the Empress and Countess Annie Bretagne—the eldest daughter of Emperor Julius VI, mother to Annie Bretagne, and sister to Princess Axo Axel—he realized that events had spiraled beyond control.
Charlot, who once dreamed of impressing the Countess and gaining her approval to marry her daughter, was now faced with the harsh reality that such dreams were impossible. He didn’t know how devastated Annie would be or how enraged Earl Bretagne would become, but one thing was clear—he had to choose a side.
Without hesitation, Charlot issued nationwide proclamations, declaring Redmir Axel a usurper and pledging to avenge the late Emperor. Although Charlot had little affection for the Emperor, the crisis forced him to align with the Bretagne family.
Mobilizing the elite orcs from eleven cities along the Red Dragon Strait, Charlot also summoned the West Wind Knight Order from far-off South Seraph, Behemoth, and Machubi. With four Saint-ranked subordinates, he led his forces directly toward Strasbourg.
...
The Black Dragon tried to dissuade Charlot, but ultimately sighed and gave up. Choudrou, bound by magical contracts, could not defy Charlot’s will.
Two orc Saints, who had never imagined launching a second assault on Strasbourg, reluctantly prepared for battle. Unlike their prior calculated campaign, this time they marched in impulsive defiance.
...
By the time Charlot’s forces reached within 200 kilometers of Strasbourg, his army had swelled to a staggering 600,000 troops, merging with reinforcements from the South Seraph restorationists and the West Wind Knight Order.
As his army approached the city, three radiant figures descended from the sky. Charlot signaled to his Saint-ranked allies—Black Dragon, Choudrou, Herolf the Golden Ram, and Viggo the Flame Paladin—to intercept.
However, the three figures did not attack. The leader, a knight, declared:
“I am Cresto of the Royal Knight Order. These are Aspuros and Regulus. We swear allegiance to Emperor Julius VI.”
Hearing these names, Viggo’s heart trembled, and the other Saints exchanged complex glances.
Cresto, a 23rd-rank Radiant Paladin, had once singlehandedly defeated Amisfida, the King of Ten Thousand Lions, during the previous siege of Strasbourg. Although circumstances had favored Cresto, his triumph remained legendary. Aspuros and Regulus, both 22nd-rank Saints, ranked among the most formidable fighters in the Empire.
...
Charlot, prompted by a whisper from the Serpent of Fate, invoked the Favor of Fate. Silently praying to the Lord of the Fate Tribunal, he pledged three shares of Fate’s Joy in exchange for divine favor. A soft laugh echoed in his mind as he addressed the knights:
“I am Charlot Mecklenburg. I march to avenge Emperor Julius VI. I ask you three to swear loyalty to me—temporarily—until we overthrow the false king and restore Fars to its rightful heir!”
The three knights, disillusioned by Hongmir’s betrayal and lack of direction, knelt together and pledged:
“We pledge allegiance to Charlot Mecklenburg until the crown of Fars returns to the true bloodline of the Axel family.”
Both sides believed their alliance to be temporary…
Charlot Mecklenburg once again heard the boy’s laughter ringing in his ears. It seemed his mood was particularly jubilant, and even a silver serpent’s tail emerged from the River of Fate, lightly tapping Charlot’s shoulder.
Charlot hadn’t thought too deeply about it. Gaining the loyalty of three powerful Saint ranks, even if only “temporary,” still gave his spirits a significant boost.
The last time Charlot had waged such a well-resourced battle was during his previous campaign. However, back then, not all the Saint ranks involved were under his command. Among them were Antonio from the Bretagne family, Grandma Saint Karen, and five other Saint ranks, plus two retainers of Menielman Soumet.
Now, all seven Saint ranks were under his banner—though three were “temporary.”
Charlot waved his hand grandly and declared, “Let’s begin the siege!”
Cresto immediately volunteered, “We are willing to lead the vanguard!”
Charlot readily agreed. With seven Saint ranks at his disposal, he feared no foe. Moreover, his army had swelled excessively along the way, stretching supplies thin, making it imperative to fight a swift and decisive battle.
As Charlot arranged his forces, he suddenly noticed over a dozen radiant figures appearing in the skies above Strasbourg. His heart skipped a beat.
Among the radiance, Midaphis, his golden hair shining like a deity, gazed at Charlot with contempt and shouted, “Charlot Mecklenburg, a mere merchant’s son like you dares defy the new emperor?”
“After I kill you, I will annihilate the entire Mecklenburg family—leave none alive.”
Midaphis’s declaration caused a chill to run down the spines of dozens of Mecklenburg youths currently on their academic journeys.
Indeed, bearing the name Mecklenburg was far more perilous than being a Robin or an Axel.
Charlot raised a hand and pointed, asking, “Who among you can take him?”
The old Silverback Gorilla Choudrou shook his head first; he truly wasn’t a match for Midaphis.
With Choudrou out, neither Black Dragon nor Cresto dared step forward. Charlot was about to suggest a group attack when Cresto stepped forward, exclaiming, “Midaphis! It’s not too late to repent and turn back!”
Midaphis sneered coldly, revealing his teeth. “I’ve slaughtered the entire Bretagne family. Do you think I can still stand with you?”
Cresto fell silent, and the next moment, two top-tier Saint ranks clashed, transforming into radiant streaks of light that collided ferociously. Both were 23rd-rank Radiant Holy Knights, and their battle immediately illuminated the dimming sky as brightly as midday.
The sky had already grown dusky, but the combat of these two Radiant Holy Knights bloomed like countless fireworks—magnificent as a grand celebration.
Yet, every observer was acutely aware of the lethal danger this duel posed.
Charlot knew it was Midaphis who had slain both the empress and the Countess of Bretagne. Unable to restrain himself, he pulled out the Blood Rhinoceros and handed it to Black Dragon, saying, “Use this to give that bastard a strike!”
Black Dragon held the artifact, a blood-red bullet-like weapon, and was startled. Internally, he thought, The Mecklenburg family head actually possesses such a Saint-rank weapon?
Beside him, Choudrou’s eyes turned red with envy. He recalled that he, too, had once owned a Saint-rank weapon.
“Damn it! If I still had my Dragon Slayer Club, why would I fear someone like Midaphis?”
“Will I ever touch my Dragon Slayer Club again in this lifetime?”
Decades ago, the Fars Empire had its Three Heroes and Five Powers. The Three Heroes were the Count of Bretagne, Count Gallanord, and Princess Axo Axel. The Five Powers were Grand Duke Robin, Duke Mossred, Duchess Mesu, Cresto, and Midaphis.
Among them, Midaphis was the youngest, with Cresto being a few years his senior.
Now, the two youngest of the Five Powers had surpassed the other three in strength, standing on par with Count Gallanord and Princess Axo Axel.
Black Dragon channeled his Bloodfire Combat Energy, letting out a clear shout as he hurled the Blood Rhinoceros like lightning. In his hands, the artifact’s power was even greater than when wielded by Charlot.
Midaphis, locked in fierce combat with Cresto, suddenly sensed danger. With a jolt of his knight’s lance, he deflected the Blood Rhinoceros.
Black Dragon silently controlled the Blood Rhinoceros, causing the extraordinary Saint-rank weapon to fly erratically across the battlefield, disrupting the fight.
However, Midaphis was no fool. With a sharp shout, he called out another Saint rank’s name, who immediately intervened to block the Blood Rhinoceros. Since the artifact didn’t belong to Black Dragon, his control over it lacked the fluency of Charlot, its rightful owner. Moreover, its unique design confounded even the ancient Lizardfolk, leaving it suppressed by the opposing Saint rank.
Both sides continued to throw Saint ranks into the fray, and the battle only grew more intense!
At first, Charlot had been worried; Midaphis Saint ranks far outnumbered his own. However, he quickly realized that aside from the weaker Flame Combat Energy Knight, Saint Viggo, his Saint ranks generally outclassed the opposition, allowing them to gradually gain the upper hand.
Over twenty radiant figures streaked across the sky. This was the largest Saint-rank battle Charlot had ever witnessed. Even the Ferranden campaign paled in comparison. Every Saint rank displayed their full prowess, and the fight was bloodier than any clash between nations.
Battles between countries allowed for the possibility of surrender. In a war for the throne, there could be no such concessions.
After observing the skyborne battle for a while, Charlot silently mobilized his army to begin the siege of Strasbourg.
Strasbourg, one of the largest cities on the Old Continent, boasted formidable defenses. The private knightly orders of Prince Redmir and Duke Mossred were also exceptionally powerful. Despite hours of fierce combat, neither side could gain the upper hand.
Wielding the Berserker Blade, Charlot personally entered the fray, cutting down seven Transcendent foes in a row, but even that couldn’t stabilize the situation. Seeing the prolonged battle taking a toll on his forces, Charlot was forced to order a retreat.
However, Charlot lacked the experience to command an army of tens of thousands. Although he was aware of his shortcomings and had split the West Wind Knight Order into fifty-man squads under direct leaders, this decentralized command proved inadequate for the chaos of large-scale retreat.
Charlot had to personally lead an elite squad to rescue scattered units repeatedly. After several hours of back-and-forth charges, he finally managed to pull back over ninety percent of his forces.
Charlot had just withdrawn his army ten kilometers to regroup when a subordinate reported that the Count of Bretagne had arrived with his knightly order.
Overjoyed, Charlot hurried to receive him, but upon seeing the count’s disheveled and despondent state, he was taken aback. The once-dominant Count of Bretagne, known as the empire’s strongest, now looked haggard, broken, and utterly devoid of his usual confidence.
The Count of Bretagne was a man whose soul had died.
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